Realm of Mirrors (The DeathSpeaker Codex Book 3) Page 6

  Then I remembered Shade could hear thoughts that wanted to be heard. Maybe if I thought hard enough, I wouldn’t have to ask what was probably a stupid question out loud.

  Just as the idea crossed my mind, she raised an elegant eyebrow. “It’s not a stupid question,” she said. “But it is something of a complicated answer.”

  “Holy shit. You heard me?”

  “Aye. You wanted me to, didn’t you?” She actually smiled a little, and even Sadie took notice. “We’re not high Fae, Nix and I,” she said. “At least, that is the term, though I’ve never agreed with it. High Fae, pure Seelie and Unseelie, control the Summer and Winter Courts. But there are many other…variations, all of us labeled low Fae.”

  “You mean like Redcaps,” I said. That’s what Sadie had called the pointy-toothed leprechaun—a low Fae.

  Nix stared at me. “You’ve seen a Redcap?” he said. “Here?”

  “Er, yeah. Once,” I said. “Long story.”

  “Don’t interrupt, you daft bit,” Shade said, not unkindly. “They should know this.”

  He grinned. “Sorry, love. I’m an insensitive tool, a bloody flake, and so forth.”

  “That you are.” She shook her head. “As I was saying, there are many types of low Fae. Dryads, nymphs, Redcaps, gnomes, brownies. My thick-headed mate here is a Pooka, and I am Sluagh. And we, the low Fae, are Seelie or Unseelie depending on where in Arcadia our kind dwells, and which Court’s rule we’re subjected to.” Her lingering smile slipped away. “Meaning he’s Seelie, and I’m Unseelie.”

  “Aye. Arcadia forbids the union of Seelie and Unseelie—it’s the one thing both Courts agree on.” Nix took his wife’s hand gently. “That’s why we’re here, instead of there.”

  Damn. I knew they didn’t get along, but this seemed somehow worse than killing each other. It sounded like the high Fae had basically forced a bunch of other Fae who didn’t have anything to do with them to take sides, and then made loyalty a requirement. “So you couldn’t be together at all over there?” I said.

  “We couldn’t survive there,” Shade said. “The penalty for such a union is death.”

  I decided not to ask what the Courts’ policies were on human-Fae unions. Figured I could probably guess.

  Before I could horrify myself further, Cobalt returned from wherever he’d gone, tucking a phone in his pocket. “Coincidentally, Uriskel is aware that you’re here,” he said. “And despite swearing he’d no longer protect me when I don’t need it, he’s already on the way. He’ll be here momentarily.”

  “Fantastic,” Nix said. “Your brother’s presence always livens the place up. I’ll nip down and let him in, shall I?”

  “Please do. I’d rather he didn’t break my door down. Again.”

  Nix stood and headed for the stairs. And I tried to stay calm, reminding myself that at least I had a vague idea why Uriskel acted the way he did.

  Unfortunately, it didn’t make him any less terrifying.

  When Uriskel joined us, I had to repeat my little story. But he wasn’t satisfied with ‘a bunch of angry fairies came through the TV and stole my father and brother.’

  “You must know something.” Once again, the red-haired Unseelie had refused to sit down. He stood at the end of the longer couch, staring at me in disgust—like he’d just decided he owned underwear that was smarter than me. “Why would the Unseelie Guard want your brother?”

  “Look, I have no idea,” I said. “I’m pretty sure they were after Daoin, and they only took Taeral because he was there.”

  “Daoin?” Uriskel said hoarsely.

  “Yeah, Taeral’s—well, our father. He’s supposed to be banished, so I don’t know why they’d take him back.”

  “Lord Daoin Ciar’ Ansghar, Captain of the Unseelie Guard.” Uriskel took a menacing step forward. “That is your father?”

  I tried to shrink into the couch. “Look, I don’t know anything about him,” I said. “I just met the guy a few months ago, and he was already…”

  “Already what?” he demanded.

  “Gone, okay?” I nearly shouted. This was starting to piss me off. I lunged to my feet and paced toward the window, my hands clenched tight. “Whoever Daoin was before, he’s not anymore. He hasn’t been for a long time,” I said without turning. “He doesn’t remember anything about his life, and he barely remembers Taeral is his son. Hell, he doesn’t know who he is half the time. So I don’t fucking understand why the Unseelie Court came for him, but I’m getting both of them back, damn it!”

  A resounding silence answered my rant, and I looked back to find everyone gaping at me. Including Uriskel.

  “What’s happened to him?” Uriskel said in an almost normal tone.

  I released a pent breath. “You guys ever hear of Milus Dei?”

  “Gideon, don’t.” Sadie sat forward with an alarmed expression. “We shouldn’t talk about that.”

  “Yeah, we should.” I knew what had her worried. If they found out what I was, besides half Unseelie, they might not help us—because there was a distinct possibility Milus Dei would target them, too. But I wasn’t going to let anyone risk their lives without knowing what they were getting into. “Have you heard of it?” I repeated.

  Cobalt frowned. “Aye, but only rumors,” he said. “They’re supposed to be some kind of cult looking to destroy all non-humans. The men of legend—and I’d assumed that’s what they were. Legends, stories to frighten children.”

  “Well, they’re real.” I crossed my arms and focused on nothing in particular. “Milus Dei is what happened to Daoin,” I said. “They held him captive for twenty-six years. Kept him in a room with cold iron walls, experimented on him, tortured him. When we got him out of there, they’d left him to bleed to death—he had no magic left, so he couldn’t heal himself.”

  I could barely look at their stricken expressions. At least they believed me.

  Sadie got up and walked over to me. “They had Taeral too, for almost a year,” she said. “That’s how he lost his arm. And they caught me twice.”

  “Where is this Milus Dei?” Uriskel said.

  I frowned. “Good question. We fought them, thought we’d stopped them—but then we found out the group in New York was only a branch,” I said. “Apparently they’re all over the world. We just got back from fighting another bunch of those bastards in Pennsylvania. They’d taken Sadie’s pack.”

  “My God, I’m so sorry,” Cobalt rasped. “Gideon, you said you’d only known about the Others, and your own heritage, for a few months. Is this how you found out?”

  “Yeah. They came after me pretty hard, so I had to figure everything out fast—and not die while I was doing it.”

  Uriskel raised an eyebrow. “If you’d not known what you are, why did they come after you?” he said.

  Of course he’d ask that.

  Sadie mouthed no, but I had to tell them. And if they weren’t willing to help, we’d find another way. I drew a steadying breath and looked directly at the Unseelie.

  “Because I’m the DeathSpeaker.”

  CHAPTER 11

  Uriskel stared at me so intensely, I started to think I’d burst into flames any second. Finally, he said. “I will accompany you to Arcadia, to save your family.”

  Okay. That was definitely not what I expected to hear.

  Before I could react, Cobalt blurted, “No. You can’t go back there, Uri.”

  “Why not? Because they’ll kill me?”

  “Yes!”

  “Well, they’ve not managed it yet.”

  “Uh, guys?” I was still trying to process the idea that Uriskel had offered to help save Taeral, and so far I’d only come to one conclusion—having him on my side was even scarier. “No one has to go with us,” I said. “We just need help getting there.”

  “Really,” Uriskel said. “You’ll go to Arcadia, with no knowledge of the place or its people, and challenge the Unseelie Court for their prisoners. Even though neither of you will be welcomed there, and you�
��ll both be hunted down and likely killed.”

  “Yeah, I will.”

  He made a gesture at me. “You see?” he said to Cobalt. “That is why I must go.”

  Cobalt drew himself straight and glared at his brother. “Let me go, then,” he said. “I agree they must have a guide, if he’s truly the DeathSpeaker. But not you.”

  “And what do you know of the Unseelie Court, brother?”

  “Enough to know they’ll destroy you, or worse!”

  Uriskel responded with a sharp, rapid string of Fae that I couldn’t follow at all. I really wished I knew the language. Whatever he said, it turned Cobalt white as a sheet.

  “Very well,” Cobalt said in rough tones. “But what am I supposed to tell Trystan?”

  “I’ll tell him myself.” There was a slight catch in Uriskel’s voice, but he recovered quickly and looked at me. “Did you have any particular strategy for how to rescue them, DeathSpeaker?” he said.

  “Not really. We…Taeral was planning on having us go to Arcadia soon. He wanted to try healing Daoin there, and we were supposed to talk to someone who knew the previous DeathSpeaker,” I said. “Because honestly, I have no idea what I’m doing. I don’t even know how to be Fae, much less the DeathSpeaker.”

  “Fantastic,” he muttered. “Who did he intend to speak with?”

  I shrugged. “He didn’t exactly say.”

  “Perhaps the Sluagh knows.” Uriskel half-turned toward the couch with a raised brow. “Well? Any ideas, oh mistress of darkness?”

  I finally realized that Nix had gone completely silent and unsmiling, and Shade looked extremely distressed. “The DeathSpeaker,” she whispered. “You’re certain of this?”

  “Yeah. Unless there’s some other way to make dead people talk,” I said.

  “Gideon…do you know what happened to the last DeathSpeaker?”

  “Not a clue.”

  “He went insane and slaughtered hundreds in Arcadia,” she said. “He created the Wasteland—left a scar on the realm, burned of all magic. And it took more than two dozen of the most powerful high Fae to bring him down. If you cross the Veil, and anyone realizes what you are…”

  My stomach lurched at the idea that anyone could do that. “But I’m not him,” I said.

  “It doesn’t matter. Simply being the DeathSpeaker is enough to condemn you.” She turned a solemn gaze to Sadie. “There’s danger for you, as well. Something happens to werefolk in Arcadia. They become…unstable.”

  “All right. Enough with the prattling, crystal-ball warnings,” Uriskel said dryly. “Do you know who the Unseelie would have spoken to, or not?”

  “Hey, what’s your problem?” I said. “And how would she know what Taeral was thinking, anyway?”

  He glowered at me. “Because her kind worships death. If there’s anyone in Arcadia who might’ve had a favorable relationship with the lunatic who held your position before you, it’s a Sluagh.”

  “We commune with spirits,” Shade said, glaring right back at him. “And yes, I’ve an idea. You can be polite if you’d like to hear it, Uriskel, or you’ll need to buy me more than a drink to keep me from spilling your little secrets.”

  “Fine,” he groaned. “Shade, would you be so kind as to share with me who we might speak to about the DeathSpeaker?”

  Sadie managed a smile at that. “Oh, I like you,” she said to Shade.

  “I’ve plenty of experience dealing with manly fools,” Shade said. “I’m sure you’ve had your share, as well.”

  “Oh, yeah.”

  “Hey,” I said. “Why do I get the feeling you’re talking about me?”

  Sadie shrugged. “You must be psychic, too.”

  “At any rate,” Shade said with a crooked smile. “The one you’d be looking for is probably Nyantha. My grand-aunt, coincidentally. You’ll find her in the marshlands, likely around the Trees of Ankou.”

  “Where we’ll wander for days, no doubt,” Uriskel grumbled.

  “Really, must I explain everything to you?” Shade let out a nearly playful huff. “Nyantha is psychic. Just think of your need to speak with her, and she’ll find you.”

  “Of course. Thank you,” Uriskel said stiffly. “Now, the two of you rest tonight, and we’ll depart in the morning.”

  “Uriskel,” Cobalt said haltingly.

  “What is it now?”

  He opened his mouth, and closed it again. “Just…swear you’ll come back,” he said. “I can’t lose you like this again.”

  Uriskel deflated a bit, then reached out and clasped his shoulder. “You know I can’t promise that, brother. But I’ve no intention of dying—or letting these two noble imbeciles get themselves killed.”

  “I suppose if that’s the best you’ve got…” With a sad smile, Cobalt took his other shoulder. “Well met, then.”

  “Well met.” Uriskel nodded and lowered his hand. “All right, enough grousing. I’ve got to get home and…” He shivered slightly. “I’ll return in the morning.”

  “Uriskel, wait,” I said.

  He stared at me. “Now what?”

  “Why are you doing this?” I had no idea what happened before, but I felt awful watching him say goodbye to his brother. And apparently there was someone at home he was leaving behind, too. “You don’t know me, or Sadie, and you hate Taeral. You know who Daoin is, but it doesn’t seem like you think much of him, either,” I said. “Look, I don’t want to die—but I definitely don’t want someone else doing it for me.”

  He actually smiled. A little. “You’ve just said why I’m doing it, right there. Besides the fact that you’re the DeathSpeaker, and you must be protected…you would die for your brother. That alone earns my respect.” He glanced at Cobalt, and added, “I’ve some experience in that regard.”

  “Aye, and he’s a damned stubborn fool,” Cobalt said.

  “At least I’m not a great softhearted dolt.” Uriskel smirked, lifted a hand in parting and headed for the stairs. “Rise early,” he called over his shoulder. “We’ve much ground to cover, before we attempt to face the Winter Court.”

  Great. Now I kind of liked Uriskel.

  And that only made everything a hell of a lot worse.

  CHAPTER 12

  Cobalt invited us to stay in his guest room for the night. It was a better idea than sleeping in my van, or going back to the Castle—if I talked to Denei before we left, she’d insist on going with us. And I didn’t want to risk any more lives than we already were.

  I hadn’t even told any of them about Reun yet. Probably should do that in the morning.

  The emotional shock had driven Sadie to exhaustion. She was barely on her feet when Cobalt showed us to the room. I helped her into the queen bed over her half-mumbled protests that she wanted to leave now, and her eyes closed the instant her head hit the pillow. The room also had an overstuffed chair. I’d sleep in that, because I had to get up earlier than her. There was someone I needed to talk to before I went to a place I might never come back from.

  And he was going to be pissed.

  I fired off a text to Abe, figuring he’d definitely be asleep by now, and asked if we could meet up early for coffee. Then I tossed the phone on the chair and used the small bathroom attached to the guest room. When I came back out, I had a reply.

  You never get up early. What’s wrong? Call me.

  Guess he wasn’t asleep after all.

  I had to close my eyes for a minute before I dialed him. Of all the “fathers” I had, Abraham Strauss was the closest one to a dad. He’d brought me to the fosters I stayed with after I escaped the Valentines, kept me in school and out of trouble, supported me while I went to community college. After graduation, when I failed at being a paramedic and decided body moving was the career for me, he’d helped me get gigs with the NYPD. He’d been there for everything that mattered in my life.

  And I had no idea how to tell him that I wasn’t entirely human, or that I was going to a magical realm he couldn’t get to, where I might die.<
br />
  Abe answered on the first ring. “Where are you?”

  “Hey, Captain,” I said, trying to keep my tone light. “I’m fine. How are you?”

  “Gideon, it’s one in the morning. You’re not fine.”

  Damn. Always the detective, even though he’d been promoted. “I am fine, though,” I said. At this very moment, I was not in any physical danger. But I wouldn’t explain the technicalities that way. “I just…need to talk to you. In person.”

  “Are you going to fight another pack of werewolves?” he said. “Thanks for the heads-up on that, by the way. It was great finding out from the local sheriff of East Nowhere.”

  “Yeah, sorry about that. And no, not fighting werewolves.” I sighed and rubbed the back of my neck. “I don’t want to talk about this on the phone,” I said. I owed him more than that. “So, how about we have coffee? Say six, at that diner by the precinct?”

  “How about we talk now? I’m already awake. Where are you?”

  Great. I really hadn’t wanted to tell him this before I saw him. “You know that suspicious tattoo shop you said I should probably stay away from?”

  He groaned. “Let me guess. You’re there.”

  “Gold star, Detective. I mean Captain.”

  “Fine. I’ll be there in fifteen.”

  “Abe—”

  “Too late. I’m already worried.” His smirk translated loud and clear through the phone. “See you soon. I’ll even bring coffee, but it’s gonna be that crappy gas station stuff.”

  “That works,” I said. “Thanks, Abe.”

  I ended the call and hesitated before I left the room. Cobalt had probably gone to bed, and I didn’t want to disturb him. But I also didn’t want to screw with the entrance to the place and make him think there was a break-in or something.

  Fortunately, it turned out I didn’t have to worry. Cobalt and Will were sitting on the loveseat, talking in hushed tones when I came out.

  “Er. Sorry,” I said when they both looked up. “A friend of mine is on the way here. I needed to talk to him before…you know, and he insisted on doing it now. I was just going to wait outside for him.”